100 Souls
by sinemoras09
Summary: Collection of drabbles featuring Mifune and Angela. Gen. Will be updated on occasion, but each drabble is complete. Spoilers up through chapter 58.
1. Bodyguard

_Author's note: This is intended to be a collection of oneshots and drabbles featuring Mifune and Angela. I've marked it as "complete" for now, since each drabble is a standalone.  
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Mifune was sleeping again. He was sleeping sitting upright, leaning against the wall with his sword against his shoulder.

"How come you sleep sitting up?" Angela asked. She crawled into Mifune's lap, pushing the sword to the side and tugging at his sleeve. "Is it because you can't lie down?"

Mifune smiled, shifting his weight to accommodate her.

"It is safer this way," Mifune said. Angela yawned and cuddled, burying her face against his shoulder. "There are those who wish to hurt you, An; I sleep by my sword to protect you."

"That's scary," Angela said, and she clung to his chest. She felt Mifune press a comforting hand against her back.

"Perhaps I have been too forthright," Mifune murmured, but by now Angela had no idea what he was saying. Caught somewhere between wakefulness and slumber, Mifune murmured into her hair, "Do not worry, An," before she felt him breathe deeply again, his muscles loosening. "I will protect you."

His head drooped slightly, his cheek resting against her hair.

He was sleeping now, and Angela cuddled against him. He felt warm and good and Angela pressed her face against the folds of his shirt.

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**A/N: These first four drabbles are leftovers from the fic, "Sitting Right Beside You." I thought I would post them separately here, and maybe add to them later. We'll see :) **


	2. Mosquito

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Mifune hated old man Mosquito; whenever he got close to Angela, Mifune would shake with silent rage. "Come," Mosquito would say, and his nose would twitch, menacingly. "We have much to discuss, my little one."

And it would take all of Mifune's willpower not to come up and slice off the old man's head.

In the lair, once Angela had gone to bed and Mifune was in Arachne's chamber, waiting for his orders, Mosquito sniffed, contemptuously. "It is not surprising that a human should be so weak," Mosquito said. He stepped closer, his nose coming to a sharp point. "You are a fool, human," Mosquito said. "When she grows, she will turn on you. You should kill her now while she is still weak."

"Teme!" Mifune jerked forward, his sword in his hand. "If you so much as even _touch_ her--"

"I would be careful, samurai," Mosquito said. "Lest you forget your precious Angela is in our care."

The sword flashed. Mosquito jumped back, but not quickly enough; the very tip of his nose flew forward, arcing delicately across the room.

"Arachne-sama!" Mosquito screamed, clutching his face. "Arachne-sama, _do_ something!"

Arachne's lips quirked into a smile. "You were antagonizing our bodyguard," Arachne said. She glided down the hall, then smoothly picked up the wooden tip from the ground. "I believe you are missing something?"

Mosquito grumbled and snatched the thing from Arachne's hand.


	3. Snow

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It starts snowing on a Sunday night, and Angela begs Mifune to take her on a walk. The snow falls in large clumps, and Angela looks up, delighted.

"...and we can make snow angels and snowmen and even catch snowflakes on our tongues!" Angela bounces, swinging Mifune's arm as she skips along.

The moon is out, and Mifune lingers a moment. Orange lights bounce off low-lying clouds, and he exhales slowly, watching the white plume of his breath swirl and disappear into the cold air. Meanwhile, Angela runs, bounding over snowdrifts and careening along the sides of the hills. She falls into the snow, and Mifune can just barely make out the outline of her soul: it is a muted rose, pulsing with joy. Witches' souls were red, ominous, their impurities staining opaque and casting shadows around them. Angela's was different. Mifune frowns.

"Mifune-san!" Angela pouts. "Why are you just standing there? Don't you want to play?"

"What would you like to play, child?"

"_This_!" Angela says, and a snowball hits Mifune in the shoulder. Angela giggles, delighted. "Got you! Got you! Lazy daisy, _got you_!" She twirls on her toes, then winds up for a second pitch.

It's not long before Angela tires out, and Mifune has to carry her back home. Tucking her into bed, he notices how she curls up against the pillow, making tiny fists against her face.


	4. Kill

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It is the first time she sees him kill.

Angela won't stop crying. "An..."

She flinches, shrinking from his touch.

Mifune kneels beside her. "Angela, please..."

Angela cries and hugs herself, the lightbulb above them swinging. Yellow light glances off the wet concrete, making strange half-shadows across the bodies on the floor.

Mifune's hands are shaking. Slowly, he sheathes his katana and steps forward, one sandaled foot stepping into another man's blood.

"She is afraid of you." Arachne glides past him, almost floating. "So much death. So much bloodshed. It is almost too much for a child to comprehend."

"I couldn't..." Mifune can't stop shaking. Angela is afraid of him. Angela is afraid.

"It is ironic, is it not?" Arachne's voice is smooth against his ear. "In your desperation to protect her, you have made her more afraid. But I can make her forget."

Arachne's lips twitch into a smile. She steps forward, her gown fluttering behind her. "They will hunt her, samurai," Arachne says. "Shibusen and the witches both. But I can give you shelter." She whispers into his ear. "I can give her warmth."


	5. Habit

_Author's Note: Takes place in the anime-verse, where Mifune survives to become a teacher_.

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Mifune is a man of habit.

Every morning he will wake up and wash his face; he will pull on his shirt and step into his sandals. In his left pocket, he will keep a small pocket knife, which is handy in case he is ever surprised, and he will inevitably find himself chewing on a piece of grass, a long-ago reminder of the time when he was young and a woman once remarked that men looked handsome that way.

Like clockwork, Mifune will make Angela her breakfast, help her with her clothes and her bag, and walk with her to school; she will go to class and he will meet the other teachers in the lounge, and Stein will make a comment about wanting to dissect him: Mifune as always will politely decline.

Habit. Clockwork. His new routine.

He is not used to sleeping in a bed. He sleeps outside Angela's door, his katana resting on his shoulder.

He is not used to people coming up behind him. Sid finds this out the hard way: fortunately for him, he is already dead.

"It will take some time," Stein offers, kindly.

It takes a while before he starts to fit in.


	6. Spirit I

_Author's Note: Takes place in the anime-verse, where Mifune survives to become a teacher_.

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"She does not listen to me anymore," Mifune said. He hunched over, defeated. "I don't know what to do."

Spirit and Mifune were at the bar, drowning their sorrow in alcohol and women wearing cheap perfume. "My baby girl used to love her Papa," Spirit said. "Mifune-kun. I tried to hug her last week, and let me tell you what Maka did. She _swung_ at me." Spirit's voice grew tremulous. He was nearing tears. "She wouldn't even look at me."

On stage, the strippers swung around the pole, their large breasts bouncing and the lights from the glow ball whirling frenetically around the room. Neither man really noticed.

"Angela said she hated me," Mifune said.

"Mifune-kun!" Spirit said.

"She said I was...embarrassing."

"You're not," Spirit said.

"She said I looked stupid, like Huckleberry Finn, and she asked me, why must I insist on wearing sandals, it's cold outside, and can't I for god's sakes cut my hair?" Mifune's face darkened. "I told myself it was the sway of magic, but we both know it is not true."

They stared dolefully at their drinks, the strippers gyrating their hips around them.

"They forget their papas," Spirit said, sadly.

"Yes," Mifune said.

Later that night, Spirit tried to surprise Maka with another hug ("Your Papa loves you!" "Get away!") and Mifune took a small parring knife and cut off tufts of his hair.

Needless to say, they were back in the bar the next morning.

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**A/N: They get their drink-on early, 'cuz they're both just THAT depressed. lol. I love the idea of Mifune and Spirit being two depressed Papas. Haha.**


	7. Spirit II

_Author's Note: the last drabble was so entertaining to me, I just had to expand on it. Anime-verse, post-series. Mifune's not dead, y'all.  
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Spirit had an idea: "If Maka sees a samurai using me, then maybe she'll be proud of me!"

"I do not know," Mifune said. He chewed on a blade of grass, contemplatively. "Shinigami has wielded you before, has he not?"

"Shinigami is a clown, with you, Maka will be _impressed_." Spirit thumped his chest, triumphantly. "She will know that the greatest Death Scythe in all of Shibusen is her Papa, and she will love me and admire me and we will be a family again!"

"I see," Mifune said.

xXx

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Maka and Soul were coming out of the classroom with Spirit shouted, thumping his chest. "Makaaaaaaaa!"

"Ugh, Papa, stop." Maka made a face, then promptly ignored him. Spirit's face fell.

Behind them, Stein and Marie were chatting. Spirit screwed his face tight, then pointed. "Oi! Stein!"

Stein looked up. Spirit grinned. "I challenge you--" and he pointed again, "to a _duel_!"

The student body gasped. Marie was pale. Stein looked up and slowly grinned.

Spirit clapped Mifune on the arm. "Okay, Mifune-kun!" Spirit said, cheerfully. "The best Death Scythe and the best samurai! We're sure to win!"

Except they didn't win, Spirit suffering an unfortunate nosebleed while Mifune manfully tried to swing his altogether too heavy and too cumbersome partner around, and burned his hands in the process.

"Papas never win," Spirit said, later on.


	8. Sleep

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Moonlight filters through the dingy room, and Mifune wakes to the feel of the child's face pressed against his neck. He shifts slightly. The little girl's arm is around his shoulders, and when he moves, she whines softly, burrowing into his side.

"You are getting too old to sleep with me," Mifune says, and he attempts to pluck the little girl out from his arms. Angela whines and presses forward, headfirst into his shoulder. "Someday you will have to learn to sleep on your own."

"But I have nightmares," Angela says, and Mifune sighs, inwardly. He wonders idly if other papas have this problem.

"Very well," he says, and he lets the little girl squirm up under his chin, pressing her pudgy arms around his neck.

He hates to admit it, but he sleeps better beside her, too.


	9. Death

_Author's Note: Spoilers for chapter 58.  
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Someone once asked Tsubaki what it's like to cut through someone. How does it feel, as an actual sword?

When Tsubaki sliced through Mifune's gut, it was like tearing through a satchel of wine. His blood was warm and wet, and when she rematerialized, her hand was firmly pressed into the gash. She remembers how his hair was matted and stuck to his face, and how his breathing was shallow, rapid. The moment the blade disappeared and Tsubaki took human form, she remembers how he collapsed, the full weight of his body dropping on her shoulders.

His body sagged; one last breath. And then his soul escaped into the air.


	10. Path

_Author's Note: takes place when Black Star is using his demon mode (that pool area where he talks to that weird striped deer). Just in case this wasn't clear._

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Black Star struggled; the fey blade was engulfing him. Black stripes gripped his arms and yanked him to the ground.

"Boy."

Black Star's head snapped up. Just behind the deer, there was a dark shape of a man, hair wind blown and a sword strapped against his back. Black Star squinted and struggled, trying to breathe.

"You are getting weak." Mifune's eyes narrowed. He stepped forward, and with one graceful movement, cut through the black tendrils like vines.

Black Star pitched forward, and the fey blade and everything around it dissipated. The demon deer faded, and it was just Mifune standing in the dark.

"Black Star," Tsubaki said. She stared, naked and confused, the black stripes across her skin like war paint. "I don't understand. I didn't consume his soul..."

"You are mistaken," Mifune said. He stepped forward, the light falling on his face. "I am as much a part of you as that demon is; I am to make sure you do not stray from the warrior's path."

"What?" Black Star reared up on his flanks, nostrils flaring. "I am on my own path! The glory that is Black Star's becoming! No one will get in my way!"

"Do not be so sure." Mifune's voice was placid, unfettered, like the waters of a still pond. "Lesser men than you have traveled the demon's path. Do you wish to stoop that low?"

The wind stirred; Black Star and Tsubaki shivered.

Mifune's soul was gone.

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**A/N: if Mifune ever were to come back in the manga, this is how I think it'll happen. Wishful thinking, much?**


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